


even at the turning of the tide

by boomerangst (SevereChill)



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, Gen, Irish Mythology - Freeform, Mythology - Freeform, Rated for safety, Secret of Roan Inish au, Selkie AU, warnings because I made everyone younger but Miroku is still Miroku, weird Japanese-Irish mythology fusion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-10-27 06:02:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10803219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevereChill/pseuds/boomerangst
Summary: When Sango is sent to live with Kaede on lonely White Wing Island, she's little prepared to encounter a hanyou, an orphan girl, and a lascivious monk—or to dredge up the ghosts of her past. Life as a banished demon slayer was complicated enough without strange rumors, abandoned islands, and legends of the mysterious breed of sea-demon that haunts the archipelago.





	1. prologue: crossing

The sky and the sea were the same menacing shade of gray, and the only bright thing on the horizon was Sango. It made her uneasy—she was no longer used to the wide open ocean, or the way it made her feel tiny and exposed. She clutched Kirara a little tighter as she peered over the side of the battered old wasen, but if anything stirred in the depths, it was well hidden by the waves sloshing indifferently against the boat. Sango had decided barely a league outside the harbor that she did not like the ocean. Already she could feel its sticky salt-fog seeping into her clothes and hair, tickling the back of her throat like a held-back protest.

 

* * *

 

"But I thought my mother had no family left," said Sango.

Her father nodded. "That is so. But some friends of hers still remain. Do you remember old Lady Kaede?"

It was Sango’s turn to nod. "The miko. Is she still on the island?"

"Of course not. No one lives on the island now," her father answered gruffly, "but those who didn’t come to the mainland settled on White Wing Island. Do you remember it?"

Sango shook her head.

"It’s a few leagues inland from where you were born. Kaede-sama keeps a shrine there. That is where you will go," he declared, his tone making it clear that there was no room for argument.

 

* * *

 

A sharp spray of water broke against the boat, a few drops burning their way into eyes already burning with the beginnings of angry tears that Sango refused to shed. She wiped the salt away and wondered with some trepidation how the oarsmen would be able to find White Wing Island in all of this fog. What had started as a few wisps here and there when they set off had since coalesced into a thick, silvery haze, like the inside of a storm cloud. Sango could barely see an oar’s length from the side of the boat. Was this what the weather would be like every day on the island? In Sango’s childhood memories, the sky was always as blue as the nemophila that grew on the hillside beneath Kaede-sama’s shrine.

She was still sulking about the bad weather (it was easier to blame her ill mood on the chill than on any lingering feelings of humiliation and resentment at being sent away) when an indistinct, mist-shrouded shape materialized out of the waves. Sango squinted apprehensively at it as her hand twitched on Kirara’s back, ready to creep toward Hiraikotsu, just in case. The oarsmen and hired hands accompanying her continued about their tasks as though nothing were amiss. Sango was about to speak up when, just for an instant, the fog lifted, like a screen being drawn back to reveal a secret. 

The dark shape, she now saw, was only a jagged rock, barely bigger than the boat in which she sat—at high tide, it would be completely submerged. For now it stuck out, weathered and caked with old bird droppings and great drifts of seaweed. It was occupied by a dozen or so sleeping seals, their sleek coats the same shade of gray as the sea, the sky, and the fog.

And beyond the seal rock—was that the hazy outline of an island in the distance? Not White Wing Island, surely—it was in the wrong direction for that—but just maybe… _the_ island? Sango couldn’t be certain.

The closest seal, a bull whose pale coat was freckled with dark spots, lifted his head and stared directly at Sango. His great, liquid eyes held hers until the mist swallowed everything up again—seals, rock, and far away island, all gone so quickly that Sango was forced to wonder if they had really been there to begin with. 

Sango sat back, feeling oddly bereft, and resolved to ask Lady Kaede later whether the island might have been visible from any point of her journey. That phantomlike glimpse of _something_ through the fog had awakened a strange longing in her to see her old home once again.

Just as Sango was contemplating whether it would be impolite to ask one of the oarsmen how much farther it was to White Wing, the island loomed suddenly out of the fog like a great sea monster about to attack. For a second, Sango’s battle instincts kicked in and she nearly dropped Kirara in order to reach for her weapons. The cat-demon let out a disgruntled mew and would not settle as their boat circled around the steep cliffs of White Wing Island, looking for safe harbor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The idea for this one came from me seeing the sad Kohaku-running-away-from-Sango moment in the yikestastic samba anime opening and hearing in my head the voice of the little girl from The Secret of Roan Inish, lamenting "why must you always run from me?"
> 
> Will probably be slow to update. If you'd like to pester me to update faster you can hmu on tumblr, where I'm also boomerangst.
> 
> As usual, my only beta is www.hemingwayapp.com. Title taken from Henry V II.iii. Pls kudos/comment; I am a trash person who needs validation (constructive criticism also welcome!)


	2. i. white wing

The village woman gave Sango a strange look when she asked for directions to Lady Kaede’s shrine. It turned out to be located a half hour’s walk from the village, at the second-highest point on the island. “Walk north out of the village and keep heading up,” said the woman once Sango managed to convince her that yes, she really did want to go there.

Sango reached up to stroke Kirara, perched on her shoulder, and considered flying instead of walking to the shrine, but ultimately decided against it. If this was to be her new home, she might as well get used to the terrain. A Taijiya never knew when home field advantage might be enough to tip the scales in her favor in battle—it was one of the first lessons Sango’s father had taught her.

The thought of her father plunged Sango back into melancholy, and she was dwelling on that, and not the terrain, when she nearly collided with a red-clad figure. She recovered quickly, scrambling out of the way and stammering an apology, her face warm—it did not do for a Taijiya to be so unobservant and clumsy.

“Keh. Watch where you’re going, why don’tcha?” said the figure. His voice was familiar to Sango, and when she looked up, she found she could put a name to his face. They had known each other for only a short time, as young children, but with those peculiar golden eyes, those distinctive dog ears, and that attitude, this could only be—

“Inuyasha?” blurted Sango in surprise.

The hanyou, who beneath the strange ears had the form of a boy about Sango’s own age (albeit one with an imposing set of claws), blinked at her.

“You Sango?” he asked, leaning in to sniff at her hair. “‘Cause you sure smell like her.”

Sango nodded. “It’s been a long time,” she said, with a small, hesitant smile. Inuyasha had come to live with Lady Kaede on the island (not the island they were currently standing on, but _the_ island) only a few months before everyone had left it, but it would have been hard to forget such an unusual person. After all, Sango didn’t know anyone else who was half dog demon.

“Good,” said Inuyasha, without smiling back. “The old lady sent us to get you.”

_Us?_ Sango looked down to find a small face peering around the edge of Inuyasha’s robe. It was attached to a dark-haired girl of seven or eight, who stepped eagerly forward when Inuyasha prodded her away with a gruff, “This is Rin.”

“Hello,” said Rin, who was clad in a sunny yellow and orange kosode. “Are you really a demon slayer? Have you killed lots of demons? What’s that big thing on your back? Is it heavy? Do you use it to kill demons? Do you like melons? There’s a whole field of them behind the village. Are you going to stay with us forever?”

“Knock it off, Rin, she just got here,” said Inuyasha before Sango could decide which question to answer first. He turned abruptly and began to stride away from the cluster of houses, glancing over his shoulder at Sango and Rin. “You two coming, or what?”

Rin resumed her cheerful barrage of questions and commentary as Sango fell into step beside Inuyasha, who was as silent as their companion was loquacious. Every so often Sango managed a half-hearted answer to some question or other, but it was draining trying to keep up with the mostly one-sided conversation. She was glad when Kirara poked her head out of her hiding place in Sango’s hair and leapt down to sniff at Rin, who made a delighted fuss over the cat-demon. Soon the little girl had skipped ahead of Inuyasha and Sango, Kirara trotting along at her heels with a funny spring in her step as though buoyed by Rin’s mood. Sango watched the two of them and was soon lost in thought again. _Kohaku would be much the same age now, if only…_

“Well. Here we are,” said Inuyasha, more to the ground than to Sango as he kicked at a rock. Sango looked up, expecting to see a simple, open-air shrine like the one Kaede had tended on the other island. Instead, she immediately understood why the woman who’d given her directions had found it so hard to believe that anyone would want to come here.

Kaede’s shrine was not a shrine at all, but a shrine- _temple_ , a jingū-ji—Sango recognized a small bell tower and all the other hallmarks of a Buddhist temple complex beside it. This in itself was not so extraordinary, but it was certainly the strangest and ugliest jingū-ji Sango had ever seen. It was set into the top of the steep hillside, but not in the usual, elegant manner of shrines and temples—instead, the buildings had been erected practically on top of each other, the Shinto and Buddhist structures intruding on each other's space as though vying for attention. It was also in a sorry state of disrepair, thought Sango as she followed Inuyasha and Rin up the steep, crumbling steps. Lord Takeda would never have allowed any of the shrine-temples on his lands to fall into such shabby condition.

Old Lady Kaede was waiting beneath the the temple gate at the top of the steps. Sango had barely finished her respectful greeting before a wizened hand grasped her chin, tilting her face up for Kaede’s inspection. After a few uncomfortable seconds of one-eyed scrutiny, Sango decided she preferred Inuyasha’s sniffing.

“Yes, ye certainly are Sango. Ye have grown to resemble your mother. This way,” pronounced Lady Kaede, turning to make her way through the bizarre cluster of buildings. Sango, Inuyasha, Rin, and Kirara followed.

“How fares your father?” asked Lady Kaede over her shoulder. “I was surprised to hear from him.”

“He’s well, thank you,” answered Sango. “He sends his regards.” She caught up to the old miko and handed her the letter Father had written. She watched as Kaede tucked it away and wondered just what was in it—how much had he told Kaede about why he was sending Sango to her? The temptation to read the letter during the long, dull crossing from the mainland had been great. Even now, a small part of Sango wanted to snatch it back.

Lady Kaede’s tour of the jingū-ji was mercifully brief. There were only two monks living in the temple section, she explained between pointing out the various buildings. Sango was surprised to find that behind the complex, which had seemed from their approach as though placed on the hillside with its structures crowded together out of necessity, was a wide expanse of meadow and a small, neat garden. The hill was not so much a hill as a plateau, the top of a great shelf cut into the slope of White Wing Island’s peak, a long-dormant volcano. The island’s only freshwater stream ran behind and along the field, trickling into a small waterfall behind the monks’ residence before splitting in two—one fork leading down to the village, the other flowing over the cliffs and into what Inuyasha called “our cove.”

Beside the garden was the jingū-ji’s only well-kept building, the simple hut where Kaede resided with Inuyasha, Rin, and now Sango. Sango knew how Inuyasha had been taken in by Lady Kaede after his mother’s death, but wondered who on earth Rin was and how she had come to live in this odd place. It didn’t seem polite to ask—perhaps she could get the story out of Inuyasha later, although doubtless coming from him it would be very brief and free of any detail.

When Hiraikotsu and Sango’s other things had been safely stowed in the hut, Kaede led the others back to the main complex, muttering “Where is that useless drunk?”

“She means the old monk,” explained Inuyasha. “He’s probably passed out somewhere in the main hall.”

“At this time of day?” Sango couldn’t hide her surprise. 

“Yeah. Now that he’s got me and Miroku to take the boat out and do all his work for him, the old geezer never _stops_ drinking.”

“Mushin-sama says that with the uncertainty of tomorrow, it’s important to live each day as though it’s our last!” piped up Rin before Sango could ask who Miroku was.

“Keh. One of these days it really will be his last if he keeps drinking at this rate,” scoffed Inuyasha.

The monk in question, Mushin, was portly, bald, red-nosed, and had indeed passed out in the main hall. Once he’d been shaken awake, he ignored Kaede’s scolding and Inuyasha’s rolling eyes and greeted Sango with warm curiosity. _He at least doesn’t seem to know why Father sent me here_ , she concluded. Drunkenness aside, he didn’t seem like such a bad person. He interrupted Rin’s constant stream of chatter with occasional affable observations of his own as the five of them set about preparing their evening meal.

“Someone had better go and fetch Miroku,” said Kaede when the food was nearly ready. Sango had by now gathered that Miroku was the second, younger monk.

“Yes, where has that troublesome boy got to?” wondered Mushin.

“Hell if I know,” said Inuyasha. “He was going to come into town with us, but he disappeared. Maybe he took the boat out, after all.”

“In that case, ye had better check the cove, Inuyasha,” instructed Kaede. “Sango can search the temple. It will give her a chance to become familiar with her new home.”

Sango wasn’t certain she liked the idea of wandering around the jingū-ji in the near-dark until she bumped into a strange man—she already felt like enough of an interloper here. Still, she could hardly refuse Lady Kaede.

“You have my permission to search wherever you see fit,” said Mushin as though sensing her hesitancy. Sango nodded and reluctantly set off to look for the mysterious Miroku.

The sun was sinking beneath the treetops, casting the shrine-temple’s structures into sharp, imposing relief. Sango stepped gingerly in and out of long shadows, not comfortable enough to call out the name of a stranger. The monks’ residence, which had seemed like the logical starting place for her search, was empty. So were all of the other places she tried. She was running out of buildings when she thought to check the shōrō bell tower—it was of the style that had walls, although small and dilapidated enough that at first it had hardly seemed worth checking. _He’s probably at the cove anyway_ , Sango reassured herself as she approached. Her hopes were dashed by a rustling sound from behind the tower—and an unexpectedly high-pitched human voice. _What is a_ woman _doing here?_ Sango wondered. Surely Lady Kaede would have mentioned it if the jingū-ji had a seventh occupant.

When Sango rounded the corner of the bell tower, it became apparent that the woman she had heard was no resident of this temple. The fading light was enough to illuminate a strange, humped shape that rapidly separated itself into two disheveled people at the sound of Sango’s footsteps. One was the owner of the voice she’d heard: a tall, pretty girl in her late teens, most likely someone from the village, Sango guessed. The older girl hastily rearranged her clothing, flushing the same deep pink that Sango could feel rising in her own cheeks as she turned her attention to the second person. She could scarcely believe that _this_ was Miroku the monk, the man she’d been sent in search of—and caught nearly _in_ _flagrante delicto_ within the premises of the jingū-ji, on sacred ground! The man appeared supremely unconcerned at having been caught in such a compromising situation. He stepped out of the shadows and Sango revised her assessment to _boy_ —he couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen, only a few years older than she was. 

Sango realized that in all this time she had said nothing, had in fact stood by in a shocked stupor, gaping like a fish. She scrambled for some appropriate thing to say, but could only manage, “I—I’m sorry. Kaede-sama…she sent me to…”

“To fetch me for dinner, I’d imagine,” said the monk. His female companion muttered what might have been a goodbye and made a hasty exit through the temple gates.

“I—yes,” stammered Sango. The monk stepped closer. Sango did not at all like the way he was looking at her.

“And who might you be?” he asked.

Hadn’t Lady Kaede informed him that Sango was coming to live here? He was behaving as though her appearance was an unexpected, if not unwelcome, surprise.

“Sango,” said Sango, drawing back a little.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sango,” continued the monk. “May I ask how old you are?”

The question was such a non-sequitur that Sango was startled into answering. “Thirteen,” said her mouth before her brain could catch up to it.

The monk stepped even closer—close enough that Sango noticed the deep blue-violet color of his eyes. “Hmm,” he said, still appraising her in that discomfiting manner. “A bit young, but perhaps…” he seemed to arrive at a decision and, before Sango could flinch away, had seized one of her hands in both of his. “Sango, would you consider—”

“Oi, Miroku! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” snapped Inuyasha, appearing behind Sango. She took the opportunity to tug her hand free from the monk’s grasp. “Don’t tell me you were gonna ask her to bear your children,” continued Inuyasha in supreme exasperation. “Haven’t you flirted your way through every damn girl on the island already?”

“I _thought_ I had,” replied the monk, still eyeing Sango appreciatively.

 _Wait a second—bear his_ what?

“Well quit screwing around and come on already, you’re holding up dinner,” groused Inuyasha. “You know the old hag won’t let us eat until you’re there.”

“I sincerely apologize for my thoughtlessness,” said Miroku (entirely for Sango’s benefit, or so it seemed to her.)

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up already.”

The walk back through the jingū-ji was shorter than Sango’s hesitant, meandering walk to find Miroku, but no less uncomfortable. It did not escape Sango’s notice that, as they followed Inuyasha, the monk was edging closer and closer to her. It was hard to suppress the instinct to turn around and smack him, but aside from his earlier strangeness (had he really been about to ask her to _bear his children?_ ) he hadn’t actually done anything to deserve such treatment. Besides, Sango had no desire to offend her hosts. She would just have to be civil, she decided as they slid open the door to where Rin and Kaede were laying out places.

Her resolve to be polite to the monk was tested mere seconds after she came to the decision.

“Wouldja knock it off, bouzu?” snapped Inuyasha, swatting Miroku’s hand away from Sango’s bottom a few millimeters before it could make contact. “She’s here to live with us!”

Beneath her anger at the monk, Sango found she was oddly (and ironically) _touched_ by the readiness with which Inuyasha seemed to have accepted her into the jingū-ji’s strange little family.

“Inuyasha is right, Miroku,” agreed Kaede without looking up from her task. “Sango’s father has placed her in my care for the foreseeable future, so I would appreciate it if ye would keep your hands to yourself.”

“Is that so? In that case, my apologies,” said Miroku amiably. “I’m afraid I sometimes lose control around beautiful young women. I meant no offense.” Sango found that last part hard to believe. She was a slayer of demons, not humans, but if he tried to grope her again, she might be persuaded to make an exception for this monk.

Luckily, Lady Kaede had seated her as far away as possible from Miroku, so there was no further unpleasantness during dinner. Rin, Kaede, and the two monks kept up most of the conversation, taking it in turns to tell Sango about life at the jingū-ji and on White Wing Island—the work that needed doing in the garden, the trips to the village, the new _isobune_ boat Mushin was building.

The mention of boats reminded Sango of her strange crossing to White Wing—her glimpse of the seal-rock and the far-away landmass that might have been _the_ island. She was wondering how best to bring up the subject of that other island when Inuyasha, who had so far kept nearly silent except for the occasional “keh,” smacked himself in the face.

“And just where the hell have _you_ been, Myouga-jiji?” he asked, addressing the palm of his hand.

“Myouga-jii!” greeted Rin. She and Sango both leaned in for a closer look at the old flea youkai Sango vaguely recalled from her childhood.

“Oh, here and there,” said Myouga. He looked exactly as Sango remembered. “But when I heard Sango was coming to live on White Wing Island, I had to come and see for myself!” He hopped from Inuyasha’s palm to the crook of Sango’s elbow. “How was your journey, Sango?”

It occurred to her that Myouga might be just the right person to answer her questions. “It went well, thank you,” she answered. She took a deep breath. “Myouga-jii, do you know whether it’s possible to see Azarashi Island from any point during the crossing?”

The sounds of eating, shuffling, and fidgeting ceased. Sango looked up to find Kaede, Mushin, and even the young monk staring at her. Lady Kaede spoke first.

“Why do ye ask such a question, child?”

If she hadn’t been taught how to behave around important people, Sango might have shrunk back. “I thought I saw it on the way here,” she said. She lowered her eyes to her lap, but Kirara and Myouga were both there, gazing up at her.

“Well,” chirped the flea demon, “I suppose on a clear day and in favorable conditions, it is _just_ possible to glimpse Azarashi from White Wing Island, or from the crossing to the mainland.”

“Keh. Today’s conditions were terrible. Old lady wouldn’t even let us take the boat out,” Inuyasha pointed out.

“I must have imagined it, then,” said Sango, aware that she had made the others uncomfortable. She knew she ought to drop the subject, but something wouldn’t let her. “Do you ever go there?” she asked, addressing the entire room this time.

Once again, they stared back at her as if she had just sprouted horns and transformed into a demon.

Miroku took pity on her. “Well, the shoals around Azarashi are great fishing, but…”

“No one goes there, child,” said Lady Kaede gently. “Not since the evacuation.”

Sango knew she should leave it at that—knew she had already caused a problem, knew it was wrong to talk back to her elders, but the words came out anyway. “Not since Kohaku, you mean.”

If she had thought the room silent before, she knew better now. It was so quiet, she could hear even Myouga-jii’s breathing.

“But _why_ doesn’t anyone go there?” piped up Rin. Sango was surprised that the little girl had held her tongue all this time.

“Well, Rin, there are certain legends surrounding Azarashi Island,” said Myouga. “I suppose I could tell you the story, if Kaede-sama deems it acceptable.”

There was an almost palpable draining of tension from the room. The ordinary dinner sounds resumed as Mushin, Inuyasha, and Miroku went back to eating.

“Rin, you may listen to the story if you finish your dinner first,” said Kaede.

As if Rin needed any incentive to finish eating. Sango could scarcely believe the rate at which such a little girl inhaled so much food. Rin managed to finish her meal mere seconds after Inuyasha finished his, which was really saying something. While she waited for the rest of them to finish, she launched into a stream of praise for the food, just for good measure.

When the dinner things had been cleared away, Myouga hopped up to Inuyasha’s shoulder and settled down with a solemn, self-important expression.

“Very well, then,” began the flea. “This is the story of the demons who cursed Azarashi Island."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is this SO LONG I apologize for my inability to use 3 words when 3,000,000 will suffice
> 
> as always, I'm a slut for kudos/comments/etc.


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